


In This World We've Made for Ourselves

by backwards_silver



Category: Homeland
Genre: Arguing in the rain, Carrie and Quinn solve things by fighting about them, Carrie is impossible, Hugs, Quinn is impossible, Realizations, love is a frustrating thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:22:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25816498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/backwards_silver/pseuds/backwards_silver
Summary: After Sandy's death, Carrie tries to sort out why Quinn is being so ill-tempered with her, tries to reel him back in...along the way manages to find out some things she's been hiding from, instead.
Relationships: Carrie Mathison & Peter Quinn, Carrie Mathison/Peter Quinn
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23





	In This World We've Made for Ourselves

**Author's Note:**

> This is short and it's somewhat sweet, so I hope you guys like. 
> 
> Please leave your thoughts and kudos if you enjoyed it, and I'm up for discussing Homeland and especially C/Q ALWAYS! :)

Carrie was already sitting when he boarded the plane, barely even registering her presence. He didn’t so much as glance at her as he took a seat all the way at the back. A ridiculously big jet for two people, sat on opposite ends of it like a bitter married couple. She felt antsy, seeing him walk past without acknowledging her, jacket draped over his arm, face set in a tense frown. She turned to glance back at him but he wasn’t looking at her, one arm propped against the window, staring out, resting his hand on his face, somewhere in his own world. She didn’t know what to say, if anything at all. Whatever was going on with him, she wanted to ask him about it, but she didn’t know what to say. A couple more minutes passed before she decided _fuck it_. He barely glanced at her when she took a seat next to him, plopping down with a sigh. She was quiet for a minute, just thinking. Maybe he was just overreacting, he was just upset about Sandy, _right_? Just taking it out on the wrong person?

“Look, Quinn-”

“Save it.” He wasn’t even looking at her.

She blew out an angry sigh and turned around, “No, Quinn, _look_ , we could have done more, but what’s done is done, all we can do now is try to get justice for him.” He made no sign he was even listening, but after a couple moments he finally turned to her, eyes burning with a mixture of fiery emotions. “What else would you have done?” He asked bitterly, brows furrowed. She opened and closed her mouth with a huff, not the question she was expecting. “I dunno, we could’ve gone after him-”

“And gotten killed as well? So instead of one officer down, all fucking three of us?” He glared, eyes still on her and she looked away briefly, his gaze too fucking intense all the time. “You don’t know that, we could have tried, at least.”

“We had one fucking weapon! Two if you count Sandy’s, which he didn’t even pull. What the hell were we gonna do with one gun and a hundred locals out for blood?” He was pissed, furious, but held it all in, tense. She met his gaze, glaring back, but he did have a point. They stayed that way for a few seconds and she finally broke away with a frustrated shake of her head and stood up. Maybe she'd been wrong to try to bring this up with him. She'd meant to try to be a good coworker for once, a good friend, yet he was acting like a jerk. She didn’t move, though, thinking. He’d protected her, by shooting those men. He’d saved her fucking life, even if he couldn’t save Sandy’s. It hit her like a slap to the face but she didn't feel guilty, just intrigued.

“You shot those guys to keep me safe.” She said it out loud, a statement, not a question. He just looked at her, not a single emotion on his face, glare still as impassive as ever. She ran a hand through her hair, thinking it all through. “You saved my life.” She stated both things like bland facts of life, like it was a given. He didn’t reply, resumed looking out the window like before, like she wasn’t even standing there.

“Why, Quinn? Over Sandy, why?”

It took him a second, but when he looked back he looked genuinely flabbergasted, “Why?” He nearly spat it, like she was a fucking idiot. And maybe she was, but she wanted him to say it out loud. He let out a pained laugh that sounded so horridly bitter she felt something inside her snap. She sat down suddenly, like the rug had been pulled out from under her feet. He was shaking his head, not looking at her, like he couldn’t even fucking believe it, himself. She stared at him and it made sense. It really did. But he wasn’t budging, and neither could she. So instead he continued staring into the passing clouds and she went back to her own seat, feeling a bit dizzy, like she’d just found the missing piece to the puzzle, always a damn puzzle she needed to solve, but every time it gave her life and this was no different.

She snuck glances at him throughout the flight, but he seemed entirely oblivious. He fell asleep at some point, head rested against the window, frowning in his sleep, of course. She looked at him a bit longer now, knowing he wouldn’t notice. He looked calm, but exhausted. She wondered what his last few months had been like. She only knew he’d been Islamabad for some time, not taking up her offer to go to Kabul, for reasons she still didn’t know. He’d avoided her question at the airport, and it made her all the more curious.

If her hunches were right, if he really did care about her, why didn’t he want to be with her in Kabul? She wondered if she was just taking it all out of proportion, but maybe, just maybe, she could test her theory. It seemed a bit cruel, and possibly could backfire badly, but she had to know now, it was a challenge and she could never back down from a challenge. Her gut said it was a bad idea, and some part of her even worried about what would happen if it wasn’t true, if he didn’t actually feel anything for her. She pushed that thought out of her mind, _she didn’t care, did she?_ What if he didn’t like her at all, why should she care? She tried to sleep, unsuccessfully, kept sneaking glances at Quinn as he slept.  
It was too late, now, she was drawn into a challenge and she wasn’t about to let it go.

—

Carrie was tense and sore by the end of the plane ride to the states. She left the meeting with Sandy’s widow after talking to Lockhart, trying to decide between going back home to Franny and her sister or trying her hand at breaking Quinn. She figured the second option sounded more appealing by a long shot. She felt bad for not visiting her family but they didn’t even need to know she was back, it was unexpected, after all. She told herself it would be better for everyone if she just left Maggie, her family, and Franny alone, didn’t interrupt their life, they were probably fine, anyway. She didn’t know where Quinn lived currently, but a quick hack into the database got her one to try. It was listed as a temporary address but she figured she’d try it, it was a long shot but maybe he’d be there.

She grabbed her bag, flung it over her shoulders, and left the building. The drive wasn’t too long, the building was fairly non-descript, just a simple apartment complex, nothing interesting, large pool in the back. She found the door that was apparently his and stood in front of it, pausing before knocking. For some reason, her stomach was fluttery, she was nervous and she couldn’t pin down why. She sighed, straightened her jacket and braced herself. What was the worst that could happen? He’d tell her to fuck off and they’d go back to work like nothing ever happened. She raised her hand, knocked sharply a couple times, and waited. After a few moments of nervous tenseness on her part, the door opened. He was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, looking surprisingly calm, his usual demeanor, just the tiniest bit of question on his face. He didn’t say anything, waiting for her to explain.

“Hey,” She said, suddenly feeling extremely nervous again, shifting her weight and licking her lips, trying to figure out what the fuck to say, 'I _think you might really care about me but I’m not sure, so I’m here on your doorstep to prove my theories right.'_?

It was so ridiculous, but she was here now and there was no going back. “You okay?” He finally asked, crossing his arms, still tense but not kicking her out, yet, at least. “Yeah! Yeah,” She said with overly put-on sureness. He was looking at her quizzically and it was now or never.

“Hey, do you wanna go get a drink or something? It was a pretty shitty week.”

It was a start. He looked at her like she was crazy, not too unusual for her but still it felt ironically stupid, how odd it was to be asking him to get a drink. Isn’t that what coworkers did all the time? Especially in this job, when so much was on the line, when you could die at any given time when on the job.

She thought of Javadi and the day he killed those two women, she’d been right by Quinn’s side but never actually asked him how he was doing, they’d never really talked about it, or any of the million things that happened, like him shooting her or him coming to pick her up after Brody died, or the fact that he'd stayed by her side whenever she needed it after Tehran, and throughout her pregnancy. It’d just been natural, they’d fallen into some unspoken routine where he’d just be there at the end of the day, or during it, whenever they were together they’d fall back into it and she’d never really considered it. But neither of them had been the type to initiate things like this, going out drinking, just hanging out. She’d asked him to stick around, sometimes, but never for anything other than just the company of another person who knew the shit that went on.

And it had never been awkward or formal, just asking him to be there, and he always did. They’d didn’t talk about it then, and she wasn’t sure how to talk about this now, just hoped to goodness that he’d agree and she wouldn’t have to explain herself. Thankfully, he did. He nodded eventually, after a few seconds that felt like hours of him studying her like he was trying to read her thoughts.

“There’s a place I passed on the way here, close enough to walk, actually.” She said, the annoying swirling in her stomach back as she said it. She hadn’t actually planned to take an evening stroll with Quinn tonight but here they were. He eyed her slightly suspiciously but grabbed his wallet and keys and joined her back outside. “Let me guess, you hacked into my file?” He mused as they walked, and she shrugged, not hiding her smirk. He shook his head but he didn’t look mad, in fact he seemed pretty damn calm for the situation and for what had happened earlier in the week.

“I figured it was better than following you home.” She added, hands finding their way to her pockets as they walked, finding a similar speed. Normally she was a speed walker to anyone who tried to keep up but with Quinn she was evenly matched, it felt chill, almost. Normal, like their unspoken routine before she left for Kabul. But her eyes flitted to his face, wondering if she could find any clues about her earlier hunches. Whatever she was looking for, she couldn’t find it, not yet at least. He seemed steady, no nervous glances, no puppy dog eyes, flirting, nothing. She wondered with a slight churning in her stomach that she had this all wrong, that he honestly only thought of her as a coworker and nothing more, that he found her annoying as hell and that’s why they argued so much, but beyond that he didn’t think much else about her. She hated the way that thought made her disappointed but she tried to shake it.

“What?” He asked, and she realized she’d been staring at him for an oddly long time. She had done that a lot in the last day and a half. “Nothing.” She looked back at her feet, rummaging through things she could say right now. _Thanks for saving my life._ Or, _do you wanna talk about it?_ Maybe something trite like _you’ve always had my back and I really appreciate that._ She couldn’t bring herself to say any of those things. They didn’t feel real enough.

Thankfully she didn’t even have to worry about what to say for long because they were already to the door of the bar and he was holding it open. “Chivalrous.” She quipped and he just gave her a quizzical look. _Oh right, he always does that._ She saw tables off to the side that they could sit at but it seemed too intimate for the time being. She’d stick to the bar until she worked up enough nerve.

“So, my best guess is that Lockhart’s gonna put me in the penalty box for a while after what happened in Kabul. What about you?” She straddled onto a bar stool and he joined her. “Me? I’m done with this shit.” He said quietly. She swallowed hard, mouth dry. _Done_? Uh… _fuck no_ he wasn’t done. He couldn’t be.

“What do you mean? How?” She asked dumbly, mind trying to speed up to wrap around this development.

“I mean I’m out. Leaving.”

He ordered for both of them at some undetermined point in time while she was running laps in her brain and the bartender was setting glasses in front of them. “Four horsemen.” He said by way of explanation, taking a drink. She huffed out a laugh, taking a drink of her own. “Sounds about right.”

“How soon are you leaving?” She asked, sounding less steady than she wanted to. She’d meant to come here to break down his defenses but somehow it seemed to backfire on her and she was shaky, somewhere between desperation and safe.

“As soon as possible.” He shrugged, staring into the distance as he drank, lost to his thoughts. She stared at him, than away, piecing together these new little nuggets of information. Why couldn’t he stay? She needed him, _goddammit_ , she couldn’t do this without him.

“Why?” She asked, too absorbed to remember her drink anymore. He turned with a skeptical glance, “My boss just got stomped to death in the street and you need to ask _why_?”

“It’s fucked up, I know. But why do you have to leave? Fucked up shit happens all the time in this job.”

“Exactly why.”

“Fuck, Quinn.” Her grip was far too tight on her glass, something was building at the base of her throat, constricting it. She sounded choked.

“You’re acting weird, Carrie.” He sounded far too impassive for her liking. He didn’t _get it_? She’d read him so wrong.

“I..I’ve got to go.” She swallowed back the last of her drink and pushed off her bar stool far too abruptly, shaky legs hindering her hasty exit. “Carrie-” He grabbed her arm as she nearly tripped herself and she pushed him away, flustered beyond belief, “No, just…leave me alone.”

She felt like a fucking fool. She thought he _cared_. She’d been fully expecting to come here, charm a confession out of him, make him admit that this was all a misunderstanding because he couldn’t come to terms with how he felt about her. Yet, instead she’d gotten a horrid smack in the face with the news that he was bailing on her. _Now_ of all the times.

“Carrie!” He was storming out behind her, hastily paying the bill while she rushed into the night air. “Fuck off, Quinn.” She threw back, wishing she hadn’t left her car at his house. She could just disappear from all of this. Forget about it. He was still trailing after her. Quinn and his goddamn _persistence_.

She heard him mutter a _fuck_ under his breath and jog to catch up with her pace, her pace when she was pissed was even worse than her normal pace. “Carrie, what the hell happened?” He’d finally caught up to her but she wasn’t giving him the time of day.

“Nothing, Quinn.”

“You show up at my doorstep, want to get a drink and then storm out two seconds later?” He was alongside her now, staring at her, incredulous. She could _fucking feel_ his gaze on her even when she wasn’t looking at him. He was so damn perceptive, it unnerved her.

“I dunno, Quinn, you just dropped a fucking bomb on me after the shitty fucking moth I’ve already had, what do _you_ think happened?” She snapped, whirling around to face him, wind blowing her hair across her face, making her look even crazier than she already felt. She was unraveling, all of her. He was staring at her, mouth slightly open, like she was making no sense whatsoever.

“What? Aren’t you gonna fucking say something?”

He shook his head, still incredulous. Trying to process something. She couldn’t take it anymore, marched off with an indignant huff, cursing the chilly night and the fact that she was still too far from her car to just abandon this conversation now.

“Why do you care so much?” He asked finally, having caught back up to her. He didn’t sound mad, just genuinely curious. _The fuck?_

"Excuse me?” She scoffed, “Why do I care that you’re leaving? Why do I care that one of the people I trust most in the agency- _in my life_ \- is just bailing on me when I need him the most? You fucking tell me, Quinn, why do I care so much?”

“Carrie-” He started.

“No, don’t fucking _Carrie_ me. I _need_ you, just like I _needed_ you in Kabul and you just turned me down without a single good fucking explanation, and now you’re saying you’re just _out_ without a goddamn thought to how that’ll affect anyone else. How that’ll affect _me_?” She was trying to catch her breath, spinning somewhere untethered to anything of reality. _No_ , this was an attack and she was wholly unprepared. Quinn, leaving the agency, leaving _her._ One last tie to sanity snapping. She couldn’t deal with this.

She was stopped by Quinn’s hand firm on her arm, pulling her around, steadiness oozing out of him like a drug she craved. “I can’t stay.” He said softly, she was staring at the ground, couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t even begin to face the magnitude of her emotions.

“But you can.” She whispered, and suddenly she was choking back tears and he was pulling her close, surprising her with how quickly she softened to his touch. She choked out a sob that sounded so awful he sucked in a pained breath and wrapped his arms around her, like he was trying to shield her from all the shit in the world. _Sounds like a fucking relief._ She clutched both hands into fists in his shirt, wetting the front of it with the silent tears running down her cheeks. She didn't know what to say, if anything at all. She was frozen, holding onto Quinn like he was a lifeline.

They stayed like that for an unknown amount of time, until her shakiness subsided and her heartbeat came back to normal. He hadn't moved an inch, still except for his thumb rubbing little circles into her back where his hand lay. She stifled a bitter laugh at the irony of it all, but she didn't want the moment to end. She could bottle this up, right here, and nothing else needed to matter. It could just be her and Quinn out here in the middle of the sidewalk, hugging like they'd never see each other again.

And, _fuck,_ that was a real possibility.

"Don't fucking leave, Quinn. I mean it." She whispered into his shirt. He was her only friend in this messed up life besides Saul, she needed him more than she could explain and he _had_ to know. He blew out a sigh, head resting against her hair. "I know you want to but...don't." She was just bleeding honesty now, it was a lost cause. Whatever it took, she couldn't let him leave.

"We'll figure out who did this to Sandy and then...I dunno..."

He pulled back enough to look down at her, eyes staring right _through_ her, she thought. Like he could read her thoughts. She stared back expectantly, letting every drop of vulnerability bleed through her expression, not hiding anything. She didn't have much to lose at this point, it had been a shitshow since Brody went into hiding, now he was dead and Sandy too, and it was all too much. She hand't realized just how much she was hurting until now, how she'd been masking every new hurt with another layer of bravado and unhinged dedication to the job. It hadn't healed anything, only served to distract her from what scared her the most. 

"There's always gonna be something, Carrie, you know that." He sighed, finally pulling away, standing at arm's length, neither of them wanting to leave the warmth of the moment. "I know...but it makes it easier, having you there." She was being way too real with him, but she was okay with it. If there was anyone she could trust with her honesty, it was Quinn. He looked away, jaw working, thinking. He didn't look thrilled at all, just conflicted. 

"Okay." He finally said. Her heart untangled, lungs filling up with her first full breath in days. "Okay, what?" She confirmed, stomach tingling with that foreign nervousness she'd felt earlier. "Okay I'll stay...but just for Sandy, after that I've got to get out, Carrie, I fucking mean it." She could see the desperation in his eyes, nodded to agree with the statement. They'd cross that bridge when they came to it. Right now she was just fucking _relieved_. 

"I fucking love you, Quinn, you know that right?" She smiled, way too ecstatic for this current moment but she didn't give a damn. He huffed a slightly frustrated laugh, shaking his head as they resumed walking. "What?" She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to recreate some of that warmth she'd felt in his arms. It wasn't cold outside but she craved it nonetheless. "Nothing." He replied and she gave him a disbelieving look.

"Quinn."

He glanced over, a knowing glimmer in his eyes, "You don't mean that."

"What?"

"Well, do you honestly?"

He had this way of saying cutting things without any real malice behind them, instead he stated them like he just _knew_ they were facts. Like he just _knew_ her. And in some ways he did, but it stung nonetheless. She scoffed, "Of course I mean that. Is it really so hard to believe?" He didn't reply and it seemed the subject was finished for the time being.

They were only a few blocks from his apartment, and her world was shaky like it was teetering on an invisible string of floss. Her whole existence right now tied up in the necessity of _Quinn, staying._ Of the whole fucking infuriating mess. He didn't get to do this, hold this kind of _power_ over her. Her heart was a restless mess, this awful need of hers to get to the bottom of things, _always._

"Quinn, stop." He halted a few feet ahead of her, spun on his heel, looked enraged. Not saying a word, he waited for her but his eyes were shining anger, mixed with something else...pain? _Fuck him,_ _trying to throw daggers at my heart and then having the audacity to look hurt, himself?_

"What is this?" She dared stepping closer.

Momentary confusion crossed his face, but he cleared it fast. 

"What, exactly?"

"This, this...avoidance. You told me to fuck off after Sandy died, you're being an absolute pain in the ass and now you want out of the agency? What is your goddamn problem?"

"My problem? You watched Sandy die the same fucking way I did and yet you're just, what, _fine_? You throw yourself back into your job every fucking time someone dies, is that how you solve your problems? How's that working out for you, Carrie? Cause it sure as hell never helped me." 

Fire and ice, she felt like she was melting in the heat of his anger but she couldn't let that happen.

"Fuck _you_ , Quinn, I do my fucking job because it saves thousand's of people's lives. Oh, yes, how _horrible_ of me, putting the needs of this motherfucking _country_ before my own. And you, what the fuck are you gonna do with your life? Go get a desk job? Work at a goddamn _bakery_?" 

His furious inhale-exhale was invigorating her, no matter how pained she was, she always came alive in a fight.

"You got what you wanted, am I correct? I'm coming back to help you, whether it ends in a world of shit or not, so what the fuck do you need? Go home, go take care of your _daughter_ , before you ship out the another warzone." 

His words felt barbed to her, and knew she shouldn't say it but she did, "At least mine _knows who I am._ "

A perfect moment of silence was broken by a thunderclap in the sky, warm spring rain that should've been a beautiful thing served to make the moment more ominous. 

He looked so incensed she was sure he could strangle her right then. But he didn't. He gaped at her for a second, genuinely fucking floored, and then he turned, stalking away into the dead of night, hitting her with the fact that she'd just done it again. Pushed someone away. Someone who cared. 

She didn't move for a few seconds, fear had calcified into anger and now it was crumbling inside of her, broken little pieces of her heart and her mind.

She should say something. She really should.

But she couldn't even form the words with her lips. She watched him, instead, as he slowly disappeared down the sidewalk. The moment was a line in the fucking sand and she couldn't decide whether to cross it or not, but it felt life-threatening and she was good at those scenarios. So she did what she does best, and she jumped that line. All-fucking-in. If this ship sunk, she was on it. 

"I'm sorry, Quinn, okay? I didn't mean it. Not like that..." She chased him down, easier than it should've been for someone in a pair of _heels_ for god's sake.

"Fucking wait, will you?" She sputtered angrily. He didn't slow down even in the slightest.

"I swear to god, Quinn, if you don't turn around," She stopped to slip off her shoes and continued in her mad dash to catch up to his figure, threatening to disappear into the shadows and she wouldn't be able to reach him, stop this maddening cyclone of despair that was ripping her heart apart. 

Her bare feet were far faster and she caught up to him by the time sprinkles of water started falling from the sky, a stupidly accurate setting. She gripped his arm so hard she thought he might shove her, but he didn't, he whipped around so fast she nearly fell over and gripped her shoulders, hard.

"What. _The fuck_. Do you want." He seethed.

The rain was coming steadily, a little harder, wetting his face, wetting hers. His hands were holding her at arm's length, dug into her shoulders like he hated her, like he was pushing her away, and yet...he hadn't let go of her, hadn't turned around. 

"I don't know..." She breathed, and it was truth in the moment. But she was looking at him, rain soaked hair and all, something in those piercing eyes reminded her that this was _Quinn_ , and he was the same one who'd been there for her all along. The same one she'd been fighting against and dragging back for so long she'd hardly even noticed it.

It wasn't really an earth-shattering realization so much as a tidal wave overtaking her, taking the hard surface from under her feet.

"I don't know..." She whispered again, yet she did know, and one of these days she'd have to face it.

"You..." It's out. She wasn't sure what she meant but _it is what it is_ , no taking it back now. 

He didn't react for a moment, showed no signs he'd heard her at all. She met his eyes slowly, afraid of what she might see. It was shuttering raindrops now, and she blinked rapidly, trying to keep them out of her eyes, a short but strong storm that felt like it was starting beginnings anew.

Quinn breathed out the longest sigh, like he'd been holding his breath for years and now had _finally_ let it out. He didn't say a word, just moved his hands to her rain-soaked hair and pressed his forehead to hers, eyes closed.

Then, finally, "Tell me you mean that."

"I mean it." She threaded her hands behind his neck, and wondered how it felt like the truest thing she'd said in a very, very long time.


End file.
